


The Chains of Hate and Desire

by Child_of_the_Dark_Ones



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Draco Malfoy, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, F/M, Hermione trying to fight the Marriage Law, Hermione's not very nice either but she's not dark, NO DEATHS, No Romance, Not Romance, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, marriage law, marriage law - but this one-shot is about Hermione trying to get out of it, no happy ending, not a HEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_of_the_Dark_Ones/pseuds/Child_of_the_Dark_Ones
Summary: A marriage law is enacted during Hermione’s seventh year but people are being paired off with their best match, or current boyfriend/girlfriend… except for Hermione. Trapped in Hogwarts and unable to rebuff her fiancé, she searches for a way out of this nightmare engagement. But trying to deny Draco what he desires is dangerous. And a Malfoy always gets what a Malfoy wants.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Terry Boot/Hermione Granger, dramione
Comments: 13
Kudos: 197





	The Chains of Hate and Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Draco/Hermione. Terry Boot/Hermione. Non-con. Rape. Forced engagement. Not a HEA.  
> You have fair warning this is not a happy-go-lucky fic. Have fun. :3

The Chains of Hate and Desire

Hermione Granger broke the glass in her hand, shattering it into pieces. Indignation and righteous fury tore through her as Professor McGonagall explained the Marriage Law that was being put into place. Every fibre of Hermione’s being was screaming out at the unfairness of it all and she almost didn’t hear McGonagall’s warning.

“Anyone found not in compliance with the law will be taken to Muggle London, their wand snapped, and memory erased. If this is your option, come see me after dinner.”

Hermione remained stiff for another moment and then started to relax. It wasn’t a very attractive thought, but if she didn’t like who she was paired off with, she could just leave the Wizarding World. But could she really leave her friends behind and _forget_ them? She looked around at them all, noting their faces too were horrified and angry.

This was beyond repulsive.

But how was the Ministry going to enforce this? Surely the entire Auror staff wasn’t being assigned to keeping people from rioting?

“Hogwarts is under lock down until all candidates have been matched. Upon which, everyone will be magically tagged.”

“Fucking bollocks,” Ron grumbled nearby.

“That said,” the Headmistress went on. “If people in existing relationships wish to stay together, you can petition to do so. The ministry – as stupid as they’re being – are willing to allow people to match up themselves. But if you don’t have anyone, you must accept whichever match the ministry has provided.”

Hermione glanced at Ginny and Harry, who were holding hands in relief. She frowned at Ron and Lavender, her head on his shoulders. There were couples galore nearby and she realised quite suddenly how _alone_ she was. Harry glanced back at her; the look in his eyes told her of his worry for her. She smiled slightly, grateful also when Ginny too, gave her a worried look.

It was pitying, which was bad enough. But at least they were taking moments out of their own relied to acknowledge her horror.

“I’ll call out the draft match ups now,” McGonagall said, and Hermione’s eyes widened.

_Now? They’re doing it now? I thought people get to choose._

“Taking into account existing relationships, the match ups are as follows.”

Hermione felt herself go numb; she barely felt Ginny’s hand in hers as the younger girl silently expressed her sympathy. She didn’t even hear all the names of the match ups; like water was rushing through her ears. She had no idea how much time had passed before McGonagall got around the Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

But those words, she heard loud and clear.

She hadn’t seen the slow smirk being directed at her from across the hall, the moment the Head Mistress first announced the law.

Grey eyes watched her growl and glare at the older woman. His mouth twisted into a cruel smirk as she looked around at her friends, seeing equally horrified expressions. He leant back on his seat and smiled serenely as she shattered the glass in her hand. He chuckled softly as she made to get up and rant; Potty’s girlfriend’s hand pushing her back down as she whispered to her hurriedly.

Draco Malfoy laughed as her name was read out loud, next to his.

**#**

There were many things Hermione Granger was willing to do to save the Wizarding World, and having sex with Draco Malfoy was NOT one of them. She said so to McGonagall, who only gave her a pitying look and continued with the first part of the ritual that would bind her to the Malfoy family tree.

It was a weird ritual, not pertaining to much other than binding spells in basic form; but there was also the contract, made in blood, which made this feel so much more _real_. They weren’t getting married quite yet, it seems. That was apparently weeks away. The rituals and time left in the school year (her FINAL year, mind you) afforded them time.

And Hermione was determined to use that time wisely.

There were rituals of such power that they could overcome anything. But she needed _time_. Research would have to be limited to the Hogwarts library, but Harry had offered up his cloak and the Marauder’s Map, knowing full well that she would fight this tooth and nail. Given that the castle was now being guarded at every entrance and exit, and the Auror patrols through the halls and grounds were unpredictable, Harry couldn’t risk doing too much more.

Hermione was grateful for what he did do – imploring the minister hadn’t gotten them anywhere. Shacklebolt was not in control – the Wizengamot and School Board _were_.

So Hermione snuck out as often as she could, when she could.

Draco kept her in sight where he could, but he couldn’t follow her into the Gryffindor Common Room or the Head Boy/Head Girl Dormitories she shared with Ernie Macmillan – who incidentally, was among those lucky enough to already have a significant other. Romilda Vane was a _lucky_ girl.

But the main concern Hermione had right now, was the Malfoy himself.

She planned to find a loophole in the ritual to get herself out of it before their wedding – thankfully, the ministry had warned them to wait to consummate this farce of a relationship.

So Hermione endured Draco’s leering. And she endured the questions, probing, and the mix of sympathetic and cold looks from those around her. She also had to endured Draco’s probing fingers, but though she did slap him for it the first time, he quickly caught her hand on the second attempt, thwarting any future attempts.

Her days were spent studying for her N.E.W.T.s – determined not to let her temporary relationship get in the way of the future she’d planned for herself. Her evenings were spent pretending to not want to vomit in the presence of the Malfoys. And the late nights holed away in library, studying the marriage bond, looking for a weakness. Harry’s cloak and map as her guide, keeping her from getting caught.

Hermione was surprised when Draco attempted to woo her somewhat, by whispering sweet things in her ear, promising the world if she behaved. Telling her that all she had to do was accept him and anything she wanted, she could have. No limits. And promising to help her with her plans for equal rights for magical creatures.

Ha! Like she needed _his_ help!

But she pretended to consider it, playing into the goody two shoes who would do anything for the downtrodden persona she was known for. And he lapped it up, telling her he won’t let anything happen to her (claims that other former Death Eaters, also vying for her, wouldn’t be as _nice_ as he is). His kisses were like fire. His hands cold as ice. But while he didn’t hold back in groping her and telling her all the naughty things he wanted to do to her, Draco didn’t try to circumvent the ministry order to wait to have sex until their wedding night.

And that’s when it occurred to her.

Sex.

As in _penetrative_ sex.

It was the final ingredient in the ministry bond, and it was supposed to happen AFTER the marriage ritual.

_Ritual._

Which meant everything was being done in _order_ for a reason.

Hermione switched from trying to look for a weakness – time was running out, anyhow – and instead _duplicating_ the ritualistic components, without the risk tying herself to anyone for _eternity_. First she needed a replacement for Draco. Someone _easy_.

Whomever she chose had to be someone who was fine with being discarded afterwards. It was a horrible thought, but her future was at stake. She needed to lose her virginity to someone BEFORE she had to sleep with Malfoy.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, images of Draco half naked – like that time he’d half-stripped in front of her to rile her up – barging, unwanted, into her mind. The marriage bond was creating lust, that’s all. And she was stronger than that. She closed her eyes at the memory (and sensation) of his fingers brushing her skin, teasingly. He knew just where to touch her. He knew all the androgynous zones.

_Damn him!_

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she forced herself to focus on the task in front of her.

But who to choose?

She looked around at the Hogwarts tables, ignoring the lascivious smirk on Draco’s face across the hall.

_Did he know what I was just thinking?_

A Gryffindor might be a good choice, but she didn’t want this getting back to Harry and Ron. The Hufflepuffs were mostly all matched up and none seemed worried – Hannah had practically gushed that she was paired with Neville and talked about how all the boys in her house were just going with it. The ones not matched up were not guys that Hermione would trust to keep this quiet.

Her eyes drifted over to the Ravenclaw table. She’d always had a good relationship with that house. The only two guys not matched up were Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot.

_Terry Boot._

She remembered a kiss from him a year ago when they’d both been drunk and how it had sent waves of arousal through her body. His face was average, but his toned physique had done wonderful things to her, pressed up against her like that. And if he hadn’t passed out moments after, she might’ve gone ahead and shagged him right then and there.

Hermione smiled inwardly, fully aware of Draco’s stare. He never _stopped_. She turned to look at him for a moment, putting on her demure act and making a show of sighing and looking away. He seemed pleased.

_Is he really this thick or am I really this good at pretending?_

It didn’t matter. He’d made the logical case for their “coupling” as he called it, so she decided not to bother contradicting him.

_Terry Boot._

Yes.

Her eyes flickered over to him and was surprised that he was watching her too. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before she looked away again, careful not to draw Draco’s attention to the interaction.

_He’ll do._

**#**

Hermione spent the next few weeks sneaking the ingredients she needed. Draco started to allow her certain liberties for behaving herself – she could only imagine he was trying to train her to want his say so for everything.

_Pavlov’s dog._

It was insulting. But it offered her the free time she needed to sneak into Snape’s storeroom and take what she needed. It offered her the peace of mind of knowing that she was pulling the rug out from underneath Malfoy’s pompous nose. She made sure to accidentally run into Terry a few times over those three weeks, apologising for colliding with him the first time, letting her hand linger over his as he helped her pick up her books. She could only do it during the hours that Draco’s lessons were on the other side of the castle, and she kept up magical surveillance in her vicinity, just in case he’d sent one of his goons to keep an eye on her.

But it appeared he trusted her. For now, at least.

It made Hermione feel happier and bolder, but she squashed her inner Gryffindor, who wanted to take the risk and kiss Terry before her ritual was ready. Just to test the waters. But she was magically bound to Draco. She could only imagine how strong it was – pain for kissing someone else was a possibility. There was also that clause in the contract she’d been forced to sign; one that stuck out in her mind.

_Clause 182: the male party will at all times, be able to feel what the female party feels and know of intimate touches not his own._

She translated that to mean that he would know the instant someone’s lips meant hers. Any kind of intimate contact with another guy and – somehow – Draco would be alerted.

Which meant that she needed her preparations done by the night before the wedding. Draco and his parents were scheduled to go to visit France that night; something to do with a relative wanting to do … something about the wedding. She had no clue. But they would be gone for hours and it wouldn’t be quick or easy to get a portkey or floo back to Hogwarts once Hermione initiated the ritual, due to the restrictions on travel imposed by the ministry.

_But of course, the Malfoys had bribed someone to work around that._

Which meant his travel would be timed to avoid the Shacklebolt loyalists. She pinned her hopes on that.

Because Hermione couldn’t risk starting ANY part of the ritual until Draco was far, far away.

**#**

Draco leaned forward and kissed Hermione. She didn’t melt into him or embrace him – he wouldn’t be stupid enough to not get suspicious at that. But she did allow his tongue to play with hers and responded with an appropriate amount of forced enthusiasm and his arms encircled her and he pressed his body against hers.

_Don’t think about that._

The hard planes of his body fit nicely against her petite, soft curves and Hermione almost lost herself to the sensations he was invoking in her. It was just the bond, she told herself. Though in truth, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

She gripped his shirt and held on for dear life as his kiss deepened and he moaned against her mouth, enjoying every second of her.

Someone nearby cleared their throat and Draco reluctantly pulled back.

He whispered in her ear, “we’ll pick this up again after the wedding and I’m going to fuck your cunt so raw, you won’t be walking straight for a week. See you, beautiful,” and then turned and followed his parents through the floo.

Red faced and breathing heavily, Hermione spun on her heel and hurried out of Snape’s office. The man would start deducting points if she didn’t. But more importantly, Draco was gone! She increased her pace as her thoughts went to Terry. She’d asked him to meet her at the shared dormitory for the Head Boy and Head Girl, telling him that she wanted to talk about that night they almost shagged – not in those words, but he got the point, smirking at her.

It was all the confidence she needed to know he’d be happy to shag her tonight.

Not taking any chances, Hermione checked the Marauder’s Map, making sure she was alone when she arrived at the shared dormitory for the Head Boy and Head Girl.

**#**

Everything she needed was set up and Hermione got to work on the ritual. It involved a bonding potion mixed with blood, an odd spell, and complex herbs. She left out the vows – since she didn’t want to tie herself to Terry and her own vows with Draco hadn’t happened yet so she didn’t need to counteract that – and performed some protection charms over the potion, hoping it would be enough. The ministry version of the potion was based on an old curse but was watered down to meet with the standards of laws in place today. That was the only loophole Hermione could figure out. The original version was impossible to crack – she’d be fucked if they’d gone with that one.

Everything was in her room, with the main charms placed on the floor under her bed.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, startled, then checked her watch. Terry was early. She’d given him the password earlier.

She smiled. That was fine. Taking one last look at the candles and ambience she’d set up in her room, Hermione left and joined Terry in the kitchen.

His eyes travelled up the length of her body, resting on her cleavage.

“Hi,” she said, pretending to not notice he was ogling her.

He swallowed heavily. “You wanted to talk?”

She nodded. “I’ll make us some tea, first.”

He nodded and watched her bum as she turned toward the sink. “That’s fine.” His voice was cracked and Hermione grinned to herself, preparing the tea. When it was done, she carried it over to the coffee table and sat down next to him, very close.

He inhaled sharply, clearly enjoying their proximity. Terry reached over to grab his cup.

“No, here, let me.”

Hermione made a show of grabbing it and passing it to him; his eyes dropped again as this meant she was leaning forward in front of him, a clear view down her shirt. The pressure of her hand against his and the tautness in his limbs from the suddenness of seeing her breasts through her skimpy shirt caused the tea cup cracked alarmingly.

Terry was oblivious as Hermione’s magic added the last pressure to make the cup in his hand shatter; small pieces sliced at his hand and he groaned in pain, dropping the cup to the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hermione knelt down before him, dabbing at the blood with a napkin and tucking it out of sight as his eyes closed. She looked – from his perspective – like she was about to suck him off.

“Not your fault,” he said, when he managed to open his eyes and look down at her, his breath hitching as she smiled. She waved her wand and magically knitted his skin back together. “Nice to know you care.”

His sudden smirk said everything; something shifted in the air and Hermione stood, helping him up. Before they kissed, she need to add the blood from the napkin to her potion.

“Hold that thought,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Hermione raced up to her room – the only place she could be sure nobody would interrupt her without permission (even Draco had kept his distance out of some twisted sense of propriety). The smell of the potion hit her senses and she moistened the napkin with a cooling spell and squeezed out a single drop of Terry’s blood, then cut her own finger and supplied her own blood to the mix. It would need only five minutes to settle, so she was feeling confident that this would work.

She returned to the kitchen and inhaled deeply. Terry had removed his shirt and was looking at her through heavy lidded eyes.

_Oh, my._

Hermione shook her head.

_Don’t kiss him until everything’s ready_ , she told herself.

Surely they could do something else for five minutes. She looked around at the mess that had been made.

“Lets clean this up before we talk.”

Mildly confused, he nodded and moved forward to help her. Hermione did everything the muggle way, hoping to drag it out; her eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall.

_Two minutes._

“So,” he said, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Hermione Granger invites me into her room and manages to both draw blood and ignore that I have my shirt off.”

She blushed. “We … uh … still need to talk.”

His smirk turned into a grin. “Okay.”

She made a show of dusting off the lounge before sitting down; Terry plopped down next to her, deliberately rubbing their knees together.

There was no weird sensation from the bond, trying to dissuade her, so she didn’t bother pushing his leg away. Hermione wondered just how close they could touch without setting it off.

Her eyes flickered upward.

_Three minutes._

“I just wanted to clear the air,” she said, trying not to drag this out but wanting to appear like it was important.

“It was a good kiss,” he said, now playing with a lock of her hair. “Even drunk, it was better than most kisses.”

Hermione nodded. “I … uh, feel like I need to apologise too.”

“Why?”

“I was using you to get over Ron.”

Terry inhaled deeply, his fingers now brushing along the side of her face. “We all have baggage. Did you know I’d been dating Hannah for a few months before that?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I was drunk because she’d broken it off. So I get it. But I didn’t come here to talk about exes. I came here…”

“Hoping we’d … uh, you know.”

He smiled. “Yes.”

She remembered then, to look at the clock.

_Four minutes._

Almost time.

“We can discuss … that potential.”

His eyes lit up and he leant forward to kiss her. Panicking, Hermione held a finger to his lips to stop him. His disappointed look was cute.

“Not so fast.” She was feeling the seconds, trying to figure out how to make this look natural. Then it occurred to her she didn’t need to get him into her room at the five minute mark, just stall for at least five minutes.

_Where is my brain?_

The stress of organising this get together and the guilt of deceiving Terry was getting to her.

“What’s wrong?”

She must’ve been frowning. She forced a smile to her face, but it didn’t fool him. “I’m just worried because I’m marrying Draco…”

He nodded sagely. “Most people aren’t happy with their match.”

_Really?_

“That’s not what I heard.”

He laughed. “I know people like Hannah are hamming it up. You’d think the entire Wizarding World was on board and ecstatic the way she’s carrying on. But, she’s found love, so I can’t begrudge her that.”

“Unexpectedly wise.”

Terry smiled. “I have my moments.”

_Five minutes._

They were done. But this conversation wasn’t over. She tried to think of how to invite him up to her room – it didn’t occur to her that a randy teenage boy didn’t need convincing. But she also needed him to drink the potion concoction bubbling away in there. Hermione had planned to put it in his tea but forgot that when she made his cup break.

_What now?_

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said, noting the concern on her face. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Hermione nodded. She ran a hand along his arm, remembering suddenly that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Her face heated at the reminder of those abs, nipples, and light train of hair that disappeared into his trousers. He looked delicious enough to _eat_.

Noting her perusal of him, Terry smirked again, his own eyes travelling along her body. She’d worn shorts and a strap shirt – clearly wanting to get somewhere with him tonight. That thought emboldened him.

“The ministry has told everyone to wait until their wedding night to shag,” he said. “But there’s no spell keeping us from experimenting with other people before then.”

_Of course. Not for you._

Hermione had quickly cottoned on to the fact that the Malfoys had bribed someone high up to add the possessive clauses to the contract she’d signed with Draco. Unlike everyone else, she _couldn’t_ interact with anyone else on an intimate level. Not without pain. But her ritual had started and she just needed to add the finishing touches to overcome this hold Draco had on her.

She stood up. “I’ll make you another tea.”

Although he _really_ wanted to skip over that, Terry nodded obediently and sighed, waiting on the couch as she made to leave.

“Mine’s probably cold,” she said suddenly, clicking her fingers. “And there aren’t any more tea cups.” She ignored the hopeful look on his face that maybe they’d skip the tea after all.

“I’ll be back.”

As she raced back up to her room, Hermione could only imagine what was going through his mind. She’d planned this as meticulously as she could – or so she thought. She wasn’t usually prone to such easy mistakes. Jarring her door, Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Even the brightest witches lost their wits to their emotions sometimes.

This was heavy stuff.

If she failed, Draco would punish her and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Despite the gentle touches and the promises of tenderness, there was a vindictiveness in him that made her tremble. He didn’t know it, but a part of her feared him.

She quickly transfigured a potion flask into a tea set and poured some of the potion into two vials. For this to work, she would also have to drink it. It would have an odd flavour, but she was going to get at least a mouthful of this bloody stuff down Terry’s throat even if she had to feed it to him from her own mouth!

Hermione vanished what she no longer needed and hid the cauldron and several utensils from sight, before taking another moment to settle her nerves and heading back into the room; the vials in her hand, hidden behind her back.

Terry smiled and she smiled back, grabbing everything she needed to make tea again. Again, she worked silently, then sat down next to him again, with the hot beverages on hand.

“I think I’ll grab my own this time,” he said and Hermione let out a nervous chuckle.

She sipped at her tea and was pleasantly surprised at the merged taste of chamomile and the bonding potion. It wasn’t half bad. Terry’s eyebrows rose at the taste but she just shrugged at him and took another sip, leading him to do the same. Once she was sure they’d both drunk enough, she put her tea down, motioning for Terry to do the same.

He complied readily and she noticed a slight glaze on his eyeballs. His smile was slightly reminiscent of someone under the Imperious, but the fact that he took her hand without needing instructions eased her sudden concern that she had that she’d illegally drugged him.

_But I have, really._

Hm. _But it was for a good cause_ , she had to tell herself. _And he came here for this, anyway._

When this was over, Terry would be none the wiser about her machinations, and have gotten a good shag out of the deal.

“Let’s go up to your room,” he said, tugging her gently to her feet. “And finish what we started a year ago.”

**#**

Once they were in the room, Terry was quick to steer her toward the bed. He didn’t try to undo his trousers as he kissed her and didn’t notice her sharp intake of breath as the intimate act sent a spasm of pain up through her mouth.

_It’s starting._

Eager to get this show on the road, Hermione pulled away and stripped quickly, not caring about modesty, now that they were working against the clock. It wasn’t like she could _feel_ Draco feeling what she was doing, nor any anger he was undoubtedly experiencing if he even realised yet she was _with_ someone yet, but a heavy weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach.

She was suddenly terrified of Draco Malfoy.

_Has to be the bond. HAS to be._

She ignored the surprise on Terry’s face that she’d undressed so quickly but revelled in the lascivious look that took the place of that surprise a moment later. Hermione turned away from him and climbed onto the bed.

“Come on,” she said, trying to sound seductive. “I’m not going to shag myself, tonight.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He pounced. Still wearing his trousers, he jumped on the bed and hovered over her, his eyes soaking in her naked body like he was trying to decide which part to suckle first.

Impatient, Hermione grabbed his hand, spread her legs, and placed his hand over her pussy, hissing slightly at the pain the magical bond had sent to her right leg for that.

Terry took the hint and pressed his bare chest to her breasts before thrusting a finger into her pussy.

Hermione screamed out and he paused, concerned. The pain came from her inner walls this time, but she was determined to push through it. Trying to cover her outburst, she ran her hands over his chest and moaned. He probably thought she was fucking weird, but it wasn’t so weird that he would pass up an opportunity to get laid.

_That and the potion has made him more pliable._

She bit her lip, bracing herself for the next bolt of pain as he added another digit to the quick thrusting of his hand. It was all she could do not to cry out. But the pleasure. _Oh the pleasure_. There wasn’t just pain – although the bond seemed to be limited to inflicting only moments of pain, and only on the onset of every new level of intimacy. As Terry continued to finger fuck her, that pain did not increase. His mouth lowered to her nipples and Hermione gave a strangled moan at the mix of pain and pleasure, her body trembling from the effort.

This only spurred him on to thrust, suckle, and squeeze her harder.

“Terry, good fucking gods!”

“Mm.”

He was brilliant at this! She wondered for a moment if he and Hannah had shagged, before pushing it out of her head, not caring. Draco popped into her head and she had a mental image of him hovering over her, taking her hard and fast, unable to push _this_ thought from her mind.

Hermione struggled not to moan out Draco’s name as Terry brought her to sweet bliss. Her nails raked down his back and her body melted into his as her cum soaked her bed sheets. But he wasn’t done, seemingly wanting to get as much out of her as possible.

She moaned as Terry continued to finger her, bucking her hips into his hand; sore and swollen. She loved it. His lips moved between her exposed breasts and she growled in both pain and pleasure.

She had a moment of sudden clarity, as though this was all very wrong.

_What are you doing? This is crazy._

And she knew suddenly that the bond was blaring in Draco’s head and he was _coming_ , but it only made her want to defy him _more_. She felt a stabbing pain in her head as Terry added another finger inside her. The bond was punishing her. She could barely hang on as it was, but she didn’t care about the pain. There was no way she was going to spend her life trapped with Malfoy.

_Don’t say his name out loud._

“Faster,” she moaned instead, and Terry complied, shifting his weight on top of her and adding a fourth finger to her pussy. The pain was sudden and overwhelming but she bit her lip and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to keep him from realising what was happening. Surprisingly, after a minute, the pain finally began to ebb.

_Must be the ritual._

_Her_ ritual.

And the feeling of anger from Draco, in her mind, was fading. The connection was breaking. She now had no idea how close he was but, the important thing was that her research wasn’t in vain. The last part of the ritual she’d performed was just a nudge of Terry’s cock away. It was combatting the bond with Malfoy. She struggled not to cry in front of Terry; her happiness shone in her eyes and he looked down at her, mistaking it for his _performance_.

Terry leant forward and kissed her. “There’s more to come, love.”

“Just fuck me,” Hermione said, rubbing her hand along his trousers, looking for the buttons to undo him.

He nodded, pulling his fingers out of her pussy and smirking as she moaned. “Okay.”

He took over from her fingers, deftly undoing his trousers and pulling his cock out.

Hermione’s heart started beating faster at the sight of it, glistening and _ready_.

_This is really happening._

She was about to be _free_.

Unwilling to test fate by waiting any longer, she reached out and stroked him once before parting her legs as far as they would go and guiding him to her entrance. Unaware of their strict time frame, Terry took that moment to tease her, running the length of his cock along her entrance and enjoying the moans and begging of the witch to “just fuck me already”. After one last kiss and one last teasing stroke, he shifted again to do just that. Her legs locked around his hips and the head of his cock was at her entrance, starting to disappear within her folds.

Then he stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you think?”

Hermione’s eyes widened at that familiar drawl.

Above her Terry was shaking, his gaze on the wall, his biceps trembling as he hovered over her. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, he let out a sickly, strangled noise, and then fell over, off of Hermione, and onto her bedroom floor.

At the sudden loss of Terry’s body heat, Hermione trembled in the sudden cold. Fear came crashing back and she looked up at Draco, not able to stop the whimper from escaping her.

“Draco-”

The calm expression on his face morphed into anger and he yelled at her. “How dare you, you fucking _bint_! I was going to give you everything! And this is what you repay me with? A mediocre Ravenclaw, _fuck_!”

He strode over to her and she looked around for her wand. She’d last had it downstairs.

Draco grabbed her wrist and she cried out from the pressure. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, ignoring her nakedness.

“If you’re this desperate for _cock_ , Granger.”

Hermione cried, trying to pull away from him and avoid looking at Terry’s limp body on the floor.

_Is he dead?_

Draco grasped her throat with his free hand, holding her in place before she even contemplating running to find her wand. “All you had to do was _ask_.”

He flicked his own wand and she was thrown back on the mattress, unable to move. It was a stunning spell of sort, but she had a few inches of wriggle room. Draco started undressing and Hermione gasped.

“No,” she said. “Please.”

“What’s the matter, Granger?” He asked, undoing his tie and throwing off his shirt. “You were practically begging for cock a moment ago.”

The sight of his hairless, beautiful torso froze her. She soaked in the sight; the ministry spell was back in full force, it seemed.

“No,” she moaned. “We can’t. The ministry’s contract-”

“You’re a smart girl,” Draco said, now pulling his trousers down to expose his raging hard on. “You should’ve figured out the one we signed is different to the ministry version.”

Her eyes widened. Did that mean they didn’t have to wait for their wedding night? Why had he been waiting then?

“A bit of restraint on my part was conducive to giving them the appearance of being a law abiding citizen,” he answered, correctly interpreting the stunned look on her face.

She couldn’t drag her eyes from his cock any more than she could stop the twinge of arousal in her pussy as he started stroking himself, revelling in her perusal.

“Why? Why me?”

It was a question she’d asked him before, since they both knew he’d planned their match up. But he never deigned to answer her. Even now he remained tight lipped, giving her an exasperated look as though she should already know the answer.

She swallowed heavily. “Did you kill Terry?”

He snarled. “Your lover is alive. For now. It would not do to have him killed on school grounds, where I could be blamed by those still harbouring hatred to the Malfoy family.”

He let go of his cock and strode over to her. “Enough of this talk. It’s time for you to learn who you belong to.”

“No.”

Her complaints fell on deaf ears and Draco fell on her prone body. No preparation; she had to endure him with the wetness Terry had invoked in her body. She’d already cum, but the fear her fiancé invoked in her had tightened her walls. Draco forced his cock inside her, having to pause a few times because she wasn’t slick enough to shove all the way in, on the first go, anymore.

She cried out when he managed to push through that last inch and was buried inside her, to the hilt.

“Look at me!” Draco grabbed her jaw and forced her eyes on his. She let out a violent sob; he was thrusting like a mad man, one hand on her hip as he fucked her. Every thrust punctuated with a groan as the magic of their bond compelled her to do what he said.

“You are mine, Granger! I am the one fucking you! I am the one seeding you. You will bear no children that are not mine. You will shag only me. Look only at me. And in time, _love_ only me.”

“No!”

He sneered at her defiance, but instead of repeating himself, ground his hips into hers to elicit a pleasurable gasp and captured her lips for the most intense kiss of her life.

Hermione remembered, as he almost broke her bed breaking her in, the charms she’d placed on the floor. She remembered the potion that was obsolete because her virginity belonged to Draco, now.

She closed her eyes when he let go of her mouth, and threw her head back, scratching his back and screaming with every thrust.

It would not be until later, hours after he’d had her every which way, that she realised she’d screamed herself hoarse on Draco’s name.

.x.


End file.
